


You're Something Out of a Dream

by rhythmickorbit



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Crushes, Eventual Romance, F/F, First Meetings, Flowers, Fluff, Knights - Freeform, Language of Flowers, Love at First Sight, Not Beta Read, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Useless Lesbians, listen we just need something soft ok, or something like that, that has significance hee hee hoo, the traitor lords daughter is named aster!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24423460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhythmickorbit/pseuds/rhythmickorbit
Summary: Accompanying her father on what seems like a pointless venture, Aster finds herself wandering through the dreamy wonderland of The Queen's Gardens. A knight finds a mantis trespasser, and finds herself ensnared.
Relationships: Traitor Lord's Daughter/Ze'mer | Grey Mourner
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	You're Something Out of a Dream

She wasn’t entirely sure why her father brought her with him, among these beautiful gardens—lush and fertile, rich with life and flowers and tasty things just out of view—yet all the same forbidden to all except a small few.

Aster watched her father nervously, herself lagging behind. She had no wish to go against a rule so blatantly, though she shared the slight distaste for Hallownest with her kin. The larger mantis cut through the delicate leaves and branches with abandon, and Aster barely held back a wince as one of the unusually emerald leaves fluttered to her feet. Nothing in the Fungal Wastes was as elegant in its growth, and it felt a shame to cut it away with such brutality.

Aster’s father glanced back at her as they approached a parting in the vines lining the filigree gates. “Aster,” he barked—an order, though everything he said could be described as such, “I’m meeting some bugs of importance. Wait here. Stand guard.”

Aster resisted the urge to glare at him, for she knew that would result in a cuff across the head. As he disappeared through the curtain of moss, she turned toward the path they had cut through before. She rubbed one of her arm-blades against her leg nervously. She didn’t fear fighting one of Hallownest’s puny guardsmen, but seeing how obvious that someone had come this way made the inside of her shell itch.

She stood there for a while, shifting from foot to foot with mounting impatience. She knew her father wanted to teach her responsibility of some sort, and yet Aster couldn’t see the point of guarding and not getting to see the proceedings her father was involved with. Scowling, Aster briefly considered leaving. Then she reminded herself that her father hated it when she was “flaky”. Then she reminded herself about how irritating he was, and how she didn’t want to come here in the first place, and how she may as well enjoy herself. With that thought in mind, Aster headed toward the main path, away from her father’s brutal trail of plant death.

It was more pleasant to walk through the gardens without her father, though she couldn’t exactly parade along the main pathways without attracting the attention of the gardeners. Drooping purple flowers brushed Aster’s thorax as she wandered under a tree seeming to drip with them, and she allowed herself a quiet giggle when she poked those funny looking blossoms that were so perfectly shaped in a sphere. It was so similar to the Fungal Wastes, yet altogether different.

Aster plucked a small, reddish flower from the ground and maneuvered it into the collar of her cloak. She grinned to herself, imagining that she either looked completely ridiculous or completely fetching. Either way, it would drive her father mad, for he despised all decadence, often proclaiming that it was the mark of the weaklings of Hallownest. Her aunt Oleander, though, would appreciate it a bit more—she was always the fondest of red. At that sentiment, Aster picked another flower—her aunt would appreciate a gift.

Aster’s antennae pricked in interest as she approached a break in the manicured shrubs and vines. A tiny clearing, lined with the tiniest of white flowers. She picked her way around the blossoms, finding that light was filtering down from above and directly onto her shell. It warmed her a bit. Aster reminded herself to come here again, without the threat of her father’s punishment looming over her head.

Hearing no one moving around, in the distance or otherwise, Aster’s shell relaxed, her chest releasing the tension that it had held the entire journey here. She sat down in the middle of the clearing, resting her arms on her lap. She knew it was a risk, to let herself relax— but the odds of finding her so deep in the foliage, away from her father’s careless trail, were infinitely slim. She let her eyes droop a little, her gaze unfocus.

_Rustling_.

Aster snapped to attention instantly, hopping to her feet as soon as the sound tore through her inner tranquility. In front of her stood a pale gray giant, tall and elegant, antennae extending upward, hair and dress flowing behind like a trail of mist. She couldn’t say she had met this bug personally, but Aster couldn’t mistake this for anyone else. She stepped back, ready to fight. This was Ze’mer, one of the Five Great Knights. She was here to arrest Aster, to drag her to a dungeon, to humiliate her in front of her village—

“You are here, even when you are not meant to be. Why does one trespass?” The elegant bug stepped forward, the very way she walked almost like a dance. Aster almost forgot, just for a moment, that this knight could easily cleave her in two using the longnail at her back.

Aster couldn’t help but balk for a moment. Why was she here? Who was she? What’s trespassing? “I, ah. The gardens are lovely, are they not?”

Ze’mer regarded her with an unreadable expression. “Ai. Che’ saw you picking through the garden, through Her Lady’s blossoms, as though one owned the grounds one tread upon.”

“I… meant to go on an errand,” Aster said, her throat suddenly dry. “And I took a wrong turn, and got distracted by the… flowers…” With a sinking feeling in her gut, Aster noticed Ze’mer’s gaze trailing to the flowers on her lapel.

“Indeed, as che’ notices the morsels stolen,” Ze’mer said.

Aster’s mind raced. She couldn’t let herself get cleaved for a couple of flowers—she would never live that down, in the Warrior’s Paradise or further. She gently pulled one of the flowers from her cloak and steeled her courage. She held it out to Ze’mer, desperately keeping her posture straight, desperately hiding the fact that she was about to prematurely molt on the spot.

“Here,” Aster said weakly. Her legs quivered a little bit. She was suddenly very close to Ze’mer, who could very possibly knock the breath out of her in more than one way. “Peace offering? A bit of color for… keeping this incident quiet?”

Ze’mer stared at the flower. She took it with an elegant, slender hand, brushing briefly against Aster’s arm-blade. Aster felt like she was going to die. “Ai,” Ze’mer said, voice almost a murmur, “Beauty from beauty. Che’ can almost forget the trespassing, the thievery.” She paused. “How far has one gone, how much does one know of the Gardens? Che’ is meant to guard, to patrol, but che’ finds that a dull affair; repaying this gift, this blossom, this is a better usage of the few moments in life by far.” She tucked the flower into her hair.

“So… I may go unharmed?” Aster ventured.

“Ai, no!” Ze’mer burst out, making Aster jump. She seemed to regain her composure. “Ai, ah—che’ must show one something, something worth your gift in kind.”

“You… don’t really need to do that. I mean… shouldn’t you be arresting me? Or attacking me, perhaps?

“Should che’ attack you? Perhaps—perhaps che’ ought to uphold an oath every hour, every moment—but confronted with beauty such as this, such as one’s lithe blades, deadly posture? Che’ is weak in the face of it.”

Aster’s shell warmed, and suddenly the feeling wasn’t so unpleasant. She was being irrational—Ze’mer could be leading her into an ambush, or any number of unpleasantries. Nonetheless, that look in Ze’mer’s eyes—the shift in the shade of her shell—it felt genuine. “If you want to show me something—lead on.” Aster risked a step closer; a test, perhaps. Her arm-blade brushed against Ze’mer’s hair. The Knight gave a quick nod at that, and turned away quickly. She ducked her head slightly as she gestured for Aster to follow her.

Through the gardens they ventured, pausing as a gardener or guard passed by. Aster wondered why Ze’mer was so hesitant, but said nothing as they waited for a whistling roly-poly to pass by. Soon enough, though, the knight stopped, the motion so sudden that Aster nearly bumped into her.

“Here,” said Ze’mer, gesturing to the glass in front of them.

Before them stood an acid lake, extending far, far into the distance—Aster could almost see the glowing tentacled horrors of Fog Canyon through the plants bowing and bending over the noxious liquid. Above it floated faceless creatures, with long bodies and wings that resembled veils. Aster tentatively lay one claw onto the window, enraptured by the unearthly glow emanating from the acid below.

“What are those?” she asked, pointing to the floating creatures.

“Aluba,” Ze’mer replied. “Passive creatures; spending their lives drifting above such dangerous water, without a care. Do they feel? Che’ does not know.”

“In any case,” Aster said, glancing back at Ze’mer, “they’re beautiful. _This_ is beautiful. Thank you.”

“You are,” said Ze’mer, pausing as her shell seemed to darken. “Ai, welcome, che’ means. You are welcome.”

Aster couldn’t help but smile at that. “You’re intimidating,” she said softly, “and could probably kill me, but—you’re just as soft as anyone underneath that veil of hair, aren’t you?”

Ze’mer brushed a strand of said hair away from her face. “Ai—che’ was only wishing to interrupt the monotonous day—sharing such a view can do that.”

“Oh, I understand,” Aster turned and grinned a little at the window, “Like hunting with your siblings. Much more fun than doing it on your own.”

“Ah, che’ forgets—one is a hunter, of a proud tribe, keeping the deepest beasts at bay.”

“It isn’t so dramatic as all that; there’s a lot of ceremony and such around hunting, but it’s just a part of daily life.” Aster laughed. “The way you make it sound is as though I’m a knight like you.”

Ze’mer regarded her solemnly. “Che’ is a knight among glamour and luxury; you are equally a knight, but in the dark, among the fungus.”

“I guess if you want to put it like that, I’ll certainly take the title.” Aster turned her gaze back toward the glass, gazing at the rippling water through the leaves. The garden was manicured, yet wild enough to seem next to natural. _This_ felt natural, this companionship, despite how recently the two met, despite how the rest of Aster’s tribe felt about the Pale King and his entourage.

Her tribe—her _father._ Aster stiffened in alarm, glancing back at Ze’mer. “I have to go,” she said, rubbing her claws together with anxiety. “My father, he’s—in the garden. Take me back to that clearing.”

Ze’mer regarded her for a moment. “Father? Not one, but two trespassers?”

“Yes, and—“ Aster’s shoulders slumped. “He’ll be beyond irate when he notices I left him—when he notices me with _you._ ”

“Ai, of course.” Ze’mer paused before heading back from where she came, and Aster followed. The knight looked almost disappointed, though her posture was still proud—Aster hated to leave her, hated to leave this beautiful place for her unforgiving fungal home.

They travelled in silence before stopping at the same sunny clearing as before. Ze’mer turned to go without another word, but on a whim Aster tugged at her arm. “Wait.”

“Che’ must go—parting words are not necessary, che’ is aware of the rules of your kind.”

“ _No,_ ” Aster said firmly, the force of her words making her companion turn toward her fully. She didn’t quite know what she was doing—this was already not allowed, but to see Ze’mer again? To initiate something more? To encourage this warmth on her shell, to allow it to grow? That was _beyond_ not allowed. “I want to see you again.”

Ze’mer stared at her, seemingly at a loss. “Che’ does not even know your name,” she said, voice catching.

“Aster. Aster of the Mantis Tribe, though I’m sure you already knew the latter. Aster who wants to see more with you, know more about you.”

“Aster,” Ze’mer whispered, seeming to roll the name in her mouth. The mantis blushed in kind. “Aster. Che’ will not forget you, now that one is named.”

“I won’t forget you either—and won’t have to, if we meet again?”

Ze’mer nodded once, then twice. “Yes… yes. Che’ will… send word, somehow. Che’ will see you again, know more about one’s grace, one’s spirit.”

Aster was about to ask how Ze’mer would communicate with her, when she remembered—she was a Knight, and had a lot of sway—and it wasn’t like the population of the Mantis Village was exceptionally large, not compared with the City of Tears. She reached one claw out, resting it briefly on Ze’mer’s shoulder, marveling at how her touch already seemed to make this seasoned warrior quail.

“I’ll see you,” Aster said, turning to go.

“Che’ will see you in rest.”

Aster reached the entrance she was supposed to be guarding only a minute after her father emerged from its depths. She straightened, trying to press her expression into neutrality and barely acheiving it.

“You see anything?” her father said, his harsh voice jarring after the soft-spoken Ze’mer.

“No, only some gardeners—they weren’t a threat, though.” Aster kept her voice even, though she wanted to bounce in place along with her pounding heart. “Who were you talking to?”

“It’s none of your concern.” Turning, the larger mantis lead the way back through his trail of trampled plants.

Aster let her mind drift on the way back to the Fungal Wastes—she imagined hair tangled in her claws, slender arms smooth against her shell. It was this that gave her the resolve to endure her father’s grumbling all the way home.

**Author's Note:**

> Not enough fluff with these two. I'll probably write more fics about them bc... come on man. I need to fill in the gaps here.
> 
> The flower that Aster gave to Ze'mer was a red aster (hehe), which means "undying devotion" according to my sources. Ze'mer knows this, Aster does not.
> 
> Ze'mer's dialogue was so fun to write?? 
> 
> Tfw you meet a cute girl in a garden and fall in love. smh.


End file.
